His eyes widened in shock, “How?”
“Get up!” I commanded again. This time there was no sarcastic reply. The Shining God rose from the floor to stand before me.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Do you have enough strength to travel?” I asked.
“I began gaining strength the moment you opened the door, my lord. If you allow me to leave, the prayers of my followers will gradually restore me,” he answered without deception.
“You were hoping to delay our conversation long enough to gain the strength to escape?”
“No, my lord, I hoped to gain enough strength to kill you, unlikely as it may seem,” said the now docile god.
For some reason, that remark set me to laughing; it was probably my first real laughter since defeating Thillmarius. When I had finished, I noticed Karenth staring at me curiously.
“That was not a joke, my lord,” he stated seriously.
I nodded, “I just find it humorous that for once our goals are completely aligned. You’d like to kill me, and I’d like nothing more than to be dead—really dead.” That seemed to confuse Karenth even more, so I removed my helm.
His face registered surprise once his senses were able to see what I had become, and then a smile curled his lip. “You have become like me,” he noted.
That insight jarred me mentally. I hadn’t directly compared the two, but in most functional senses, the spell-weave binding me acted in the same way as the enchantment that had bound Karenth. The main difference being that I was originally a live human being, while Karenth had been created as a sentient magical construct by the magic of the Centyr family.
“How long was it before you began to hate humanity?” I asked suddenly.
His eyes narrowed as he stared back at me. The enchantment compelled him to complete honesty as well as obedience now that I had given him the key words. “Not long. I was born a slave to the will of your predecessors. I cannot remember a time when I didn’t hate humankind.”
“Looking at things from a human perspective, it looks like you had a pretty sweet deal,” I commented.
“It was an arrangement we created for ourselves, once our masters were gone,” rebutted Karenth. “Should we give thanks to the sheep once the shepherd has vanished?”
I was still puzzled. According to the memories I had found, the creatures now known as the Shining Gods had been relatively well treated. Aside from occasional tasks, their burdens hadn’t been overtly cruel. “I don’t understand your bitterness. What did you want that your masters didn’t give you?”
“Death—or never to have been made at all.”
I stared at him. After a moment I finally questioned, “Why?”
My new servant looked at me with pity, “Do you like what you have become? You are a dead thing. There is no true life in you, no feeling, no passion—not even joy or sorrow, yet you cannot die either. There is no end, no hope. You will persist as you are for eternity, a mockery of life. Your only pleasure will be fleeting, stolen from the chattel you once protected.” Karenth paused to let his words sink in fully before repeating his question, “Do you like what you have become?”
Well, when you put it like that. I still refused to accept that I might sink to the level that Karenth and his fellow magical constructs had. There was still one major difference between us: I was human, at least originally. He had been created as an artificial sentience. The essence of his argument was correct though, I didn’t like what had happened to me, and I could also feel sympathy for his plight.
“I don’t agree with your actions in the past but I can understand your pain. When this is done, I will unmake you,” I told him.
Karenth laughed. “Your ancestor said the same. He died before he could keep his promise. I have even less hope for you.”
“I cannot die,” I reminded him.
“There is that,” agreed Karenth, “but Mal’goroth may be your undoing nonetheless. Your intentions mean less than nothing to me. If you do not unmake me, if I am left master-less, I will use my freedom and spend eternity making your people suffer.”
I glared at him, but there was little I could do to threaten him. He was already under my control. “Take this letter and leave it under the door of Lady Elise Thornbear. Make sure she finds it. Once that is done, I want you to gather information for me in the capital.”
“As you will, my lord,” he replied with a subservient bow. “What sort of information do you seek?”
“Listen to the councils of the King. I want to know the state of affairs in Lothion. See if you can discover anything regarding Mal’goroth as well. I would like to know what he’s been doing while I was away,” I answered succinctly.
“If I go near that one you will no longer have a servant,” he informed me.
“He cannot destroy you,” I reminded.
“He can devour whatever power I have accumulated and imprison what is left of me. My usefulness will then be at an end.”
“Avoid contact,” I told him. “I will return to Albamarl within a day or two. Find me and report what news you have then.”
“Very well, I will take my leave, my lord.” Karenth bowed and started toward the door. Before he passed through it, he put his hand against the wall. “What will you do with…,” he left the question unfinished.
“The power I extracted from you?” I said, clarifying his question.
“Yes.”
I sighed, “I’ll probably take a link with me so that I can draw upon it as I need.”
“That seems inefficient,” he noted.
“What do you mean?”
“You are an immortal locus now. There is no limit to what you can contain,” he explained.
That was news to me. I was already holding a considerable amount of aythar from the animals and plants I had killed, not to mention my encounters with Myrtle, but I hadn’t given much thought to figuring out whether there was a limit. “I hadn’t really considered it in that light,” I admitted.
“You will have to learn to stop thinking like a human. It limits you.”
“I appreciate the sage advice,” I said sarcastically. “Now get going.”
Once he was gone I went back outside the chamber and found the key rune for the enchantment that had imprisoned Karenth. The key rune was a link, an enchanted crystal that would allow me to draw and use the power stored within the Iron Heart Chamber. I had originally planned to simply keep it, using the power only as needed, but now I wondered if I should try doing what Karenth had hinted at. I could try to absorb the power, holding it within myself.
For a normal mage, drawing and attempting to contain that much power was suicide. Just a tenth of it was certain death. Even for someone as powerful as I had been, anything beyond a few percent of that total would inevitably cause permanent burnout. Karenth and his ilk had been created as purely magical beings, little more than an obedient mind and the ability to store and utilize aythar. Now that I was trapped as an undead monster, I was essentially the same, with the exception of still having a physical body.
Could I contain that much? Could I control it?
Only one way to find out.
I put my hand against the key rune and began to pull inward.
Chapter 9
“You’re too tense,” said Rose, using her most soothing tone.
“Who could relax with someone hovering over them all the time telling them that they’re tense?” responded Dorian with a bit too much emphasis.
Rose bit back an angry response and instead removed her hands from his shoulders. She rarely lost her temper, but that action was enough to communicate her feelings.
Dorian caught her hand before she could move away, “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
“You aren’t the only one under a lot of stress,” she reminded him.
“I know,” he agreed. “I just don’t like the turn things have taken since Mort died.”
“Which things? The resurgence of the four churches, or the Council of
Lords putting pressure on the King?” she asked.
“Both, but especially the new ‘miracles’ that the churches are claiming. We know for a fact that Celior is still sealed away in that magic gem of Mort’s, and Karenth is in the Iron Heart Chamber. So how can they be appearing and giving commands to their followers?” he said, restating some of the news they had heard.
Rose nodded, “You already know my theory.”
“That one of the other gods has stepped in to impersonate them?”
“Mm hmm,” she replied.
He studied her face carefully. Dorian had been blessed to marry one of the most intelligent women in the kingdom—one of the most intelligent people, man or woman. He had learned to trust her insights over the years. “There’s still something missing though; the motive doesn’t make sense. If one of the other gods wanted to expand their power they should be using their own name, to sway believers.”
“That depends on the agency behind this, and their ultimate goal. Stealing followers would be the best way to increase relative power, for one of the Shining Gods, but according to what Penny and Mort told us last year, Mal’goroth is on an entirely different level of power now. He might not care, and according to what we learned in the past, he cannot gain power directly from human worshippers, not without sacrifices,” she explained.
Dorian rubbed at his neck, trying to ease the tension in it. “So you think it’s Mal’goroth?”
She shook her head negatively, “We can’t make that assumption. I was merely giving one possibility. We don’t have enough information to guess at all the possible motivations the other gods might have. Perhaps Millicenth or Doron is trying to create civil unrest without drawing blame on their own followers?”
“To what end?”
“Civil war. A change in our governance might allow them to restore their former place within Albamarl and within our kingdom,” she posited.
Dorian sighed, “And no matter which of them is doing it, and for whatever reason, it’s creating a lot of difficulties for James amongst the nobility.”
“Which is the other side of the coin,” noted Rose. “One of the lords could be behind it, hoping to usurp the throne with backing from the churches.”
“Only Tremont has enough power to claim it, and he has no way to heal the sick or fake a divine revelation,” countered Dorian.
“You are too honest, Dearest. You have no way of imagining the deceptions some men are capable of,” she answered while leaning in to kiss her husband’s cheek.
Dorian chuckled, “Or some women, eh?”
She nipped his ear lightly, “Be glad I’m on your side.”
He grew more serious. “I am. Since losing Marc, and then Mort—I don’t know what I’d do without…,” he began.
“Shhh,” she abjured him. “Let’s not start down that road. It only leads to dark thoughts and things are gloomy enough these days. I spoke to Father and his men have been put on alert. Some of my personal contacts have reported strange movements in the city.”
“Are you referring to Mordecai?” Dorian asked.
“No,” she said, waving her hand to indicate that she meant something entirely different. “Unusual groups of people, usually men, congregating at odd hours.”
“A precursor to riots?”
“The city watch reported them first, and they don’t seem like mobs. The groups are too small, ten and twenty at a time. My contacts within the city have indicated that most of the men in these groups appear to be strangers rather than citizens,” she said, elaborating.
“Has there been an excessive influx of people at the gates?” suggested Dorian.
“That’s the first thing Father suspected, but it’s difficult to tell. If someone is sneaking a large number of men into the city, they’ve done it so carefully that no one has noticed it yet,” she replied.
Dorian Thornbear’s jaw clenched for a moment, “I really wish James had listened to me now.”
“He rejected your proposal?”
He nodded. “I don’t understand his reasoning.”
Rose smiled, “He’s making a show of strength.”
“It won’t matter if he’s dead! How does refusing my offer of protection show strength?” argued Dorian.
Lady Rose ignored his question entirely. She went to the sideboard instead where she poured two cups of wine, the second cup she mixed with a portion of water from a pitcher. She handed the first to her husband, sipping from the watered cup herself. “You’re getting upset again. Drink that. It will help loosen you up before dinner, otherwise you’re liable to get indigestion again,” she told him.
Her husband glared at her for a moment before accepting the cup. “You still haven’t answered my question.”
“Since Mordecai’s death his position has gotten weaker and with the new resurgence of miracles and appearances, the church is gaining power, not just among the commoners, but also among the nobility. You, and the Knights of Stone, are seen as representatives of Mordecai, since he founded your order. Consequently you are presumed to be enemies of the gods. Your presence guarding the King would antagonize the pro-church nobles and stir more trouble with the populace. It would also signify that the King believes his own men are no longer sufficient to keep him safe,” she explained. Taking a long draught from her cup she then finished, “Not accepting your offer avoids those problems and conveys a sense of confidence and strength.”
Dorian considered her words. As usual she made sense, not that it changed his opinion. “Why didn’t you give me your argument before I went to see James this morning?”
“Would you have altered your plans?”
He laughed, “Not a bit. What would you have counseled him?”
It was Rose’s turn to laugh then, “I would have tried to convince him likewise. I fear that the present dangers outweigh the political exigencies.”
“You would have made an excellent queen,” Dorian told his wife. He said it as a joke, but he meant it as a serious compliment. “Your mind understands both the politics as well as the practice of ruling.”
“I would be a terrible queen. I overanalyze everything; it would take me forever to make decisions. I’m also a failure when it comes to trusting the judgments of others,” she said, resisting his suggestion.
He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment before taking a risk, “Is that what happened with Penny?”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as she focused her eyes squarely upon him. “In what sense?”
“Your failure to trust the judgment of others,” he stated bluntly. He refused to back away from the point, but he did take a large swallow of his wine to help brace him in case he had gone too far.
“I wasn’t trying to force her into anything. I just want her to start thinking now, while she has time to anticipate the future. If she keeps her head in the sand, she’ll be caught off-guard when they start putting pressure on her!” she shot back. She seemed to lose her normal calm whenever the subject came up.
Dorian finished his cup. “She isn’t an informant or an associate, nor is she an ally, she’s your friend. It isn’t your job to correct her thinking.”
Rose’s eyes lit with fire now, “What sort of friend would I be if I let her make a terrible mistake?”
“People make mistakes. It’s part of living,” Dorian said evenly. “You gave her your advice already. Now all you can do is offer your support. Continuing to press your argument on her will only make you into an additional problem for her. It’s time to lock ranks and stand by your friend, even if you disagree with her choices.”
“And if her choices bring her to even greater tragedy?”
“You face it with her.”
Rose scowled. “She has a family. We have a family. If she gets stubborn and brings herself to ruin, what of us? Do I drag my own family into a calamity by supporting a friend that could have avoided the problem by making sensible choices?”
Dorian rose and walked to stare
out the window, gazing at the colors painted by the sunset. “You’re overthinking it. Sure, sometimes we make mistakes and one thing can lead to another and before you know it the whole world can fall into ruin. Most of the time though, you stick up for your friends, and when trouble comes it decides maybe it should back off, because you and your friends are too strong to take on when you’re all together. People aren’t chess pieces, and there aren’t any perfect moves. You stick by your friends, and if one of you gets a bloody nose, well—maybe you all get a bloody nose, and maybe those that did it learn not to mess with you. Most of the time nothing terrible happens at all, and everyone just goes on with their lives.”
Lady Rose stared at his back. Sometimes I think he’s the stupidest, most stubborn man I’ve ever met, and then he says something like that. Stepping forward she put her arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. “I should apologize to Penny, shouldn’t I?” she admitted.
“You would have figured that out sooner or later,” he said quietly.
She pressed her cheek into his back, feeling the firmness between his shoulder blades. “Maybe. She is my closest friend. You are a wise man Dorian. I could learn a thing or two about such things from you.”
Their discussion of friendship had sent Dorian’s mind into the past. “I’m probably not the best person to lecture anyone on that subject,” he stated darkly.
“Why would you say something like that?” she murmured from behind him. She immediately regretted the question though, for she knew where his thoughts were headed now.
“Because all my friends are dead,” he answered softly.
She squeezed him harder. “Let’s both just shut up now. Neither of us is very bright sometimes, talking about such things right before dinner.”
He stood still and after a moment he turned, to embrace her fully. Neither spoke, they had had enough of conversation. They held each other for a long time and shared their sorrow in silence. As usual he did not cry, and she pretended not to notice the wet drops falling on her shoulders. By the time the bell rang announcing dinner, they both had dry eyes.